Covert Makeover

by Mallory Kane

  Sean let out a long breath. “I’m not sure that was a good idea, Mr. Botero,” he said carefully.

  Sophie could see the restrained tension in the set of his shoulders. He wasn’t sure what the kidnappers would do.

  Carlos’s dark eyes met his security chief’s gaze. “I know what I am doing, Sean. They will call back.” He nodded. “They will put her on the phone, or they will not get a penny, and they know that.”

  Javier looked up. “I need to give Mr. Botero his medication.”

  Sean nodded. “Come on, Sophie. Let’s go get some coffee.”

  Outside the door of the study, she confronted him. “You don’t think Sonya is still alive, do you?”

  Sean rubbed his face. “I don’t know. It all depends on what the kidnappers’ ultimate purpose is. If they need money, then we’re in good shape, and Sonya is probably fine. If they have no agenda other than to keep Juan DeLeon’s mind off the upcoming legislative session, it’s a toss-up.”

  “If it’s DeLeon they’re concerned about, why are they sending the ransom demands to Mr. Botero?”

  “That’s a good question. My theory is that by targeting Carlos instead of DeLeon, they could keep the focus here in the U.S. DeLeon can easily travel between the two countries. Botero can’t.”

  Sophie watched the play of emotions on Sean’s face. “You care a great deal about Mr. Botero, don’t you?”

  “I’ve worked for him for ten years. He trusts me. He believes I can do anything.” Sean shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Well, you can, can’t you?”

  He glanced up and she smiled.

  His features softened. “You made quite an impression on Michaela,” he said.

  His change of subject surprised her, and to her chagrin, her eyes stung with tears. “She is so wonderful.”

  “Why were you really crying?”

  Her pulse hammered. “I told you,” she muttered, evading his gaze.

  “Sophie?”

  Looking beyond him, she bit her lip, then sighed. “I’m sorry, Sean. I didn’t mean to let her see, but she was running and jumping, and she saw the scar on my shoulder.” Her hand went to the raised ridge that was barely covered by the sleeveless top. “And she—” Her voice broke.

  She swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing pulse. She looked down. “She asked me who hurt me, and—”

  Sean’s hand touched her chin.

  Against her will, she raised her gaze to him and felt a tear fall.

  “—and she kissed it.”

  Sean’s eyes were deep teal. He grazed his fingertips over the corner of her mouth and up to caress her cheek. His thumb wiped away the tear. “My daughter is very softhearted.”

  Like you. Despite her resolve never to think about the one night they’d shared, Sophie’s brain fed her a memory of his careful, soothing kisses on each of her scars. Then on top of that came the erotic image of him above her, his soft blue gaze holding hers as he brought her to a pinnacle of sensation she’d never before experienced.

  She felt another tear gather and fall.

  Sean’s cell phone rang.

  The kidnappers.

  He whirled and headed back into the study.

  Sophie wiped her eyes and followed.

  Carlos looked a little better. A half-empty glass of water sat at his elbow. His skeletal fingers picked up the phone.

  Sean pressed his Receive button at the same time.

  Sophie waited, her hands tented at her mouth.

  Carlos’s face crumpled. “Sonya! Mi corazón! ¿Cómo estás? Have they hurt you?”

  As Sean listened to the small, frightened voice of Sonya Botero, his jaw ached with tension and his fingers tightened around his cell phone.

  “Papá,” she said. “I am all right. Very hungry. I want a pizza—”

  “Enough!” the gruff voice Sean had heard on the last phone call interrupted her.

  “Sonya! Sonya?” The stereo anguish of Carlos’s voice on the phone and in person echoed in Sean’s ears.

  Damn it! The bastards.

  “There, old man. Now you’ve heard your daughter.”

  Carlos put a shaky hand over his eyes. “Sí. I heard her.” He let loose a string of curses in Spanish. Out of the corner of his eye, Sean saw Sophie’s face turn red.

  Sean walked over and put his hand on Carlos’s shoulder and squeezed. He needed to remain calm. Sean didn’t want anything to get in the way of this meeting. He bit his tongue to keep from asking where Sonya was. From the sound of the phone connection, he didn’t think she was in the same place as the kidnapper.

  Sean had the definite impression that Sonya was not in the U.S. He feared she was in Ladera, which meant all the kidnappers wanted was Carlos’s money. His boss wouldn’t see his daughter. Not today.

  Carlos gave Sean a brief nod and stopped his tirade. “What do you want?” he asked tiredly.

  “You try our patience, old man. Do you have the four million U.S. dollars?”

  Sean nodded at Carlos.

  “Of course. I keep my word.”

  “Then we will meet in two hours.”

  “Where?” Carlos’s hands were shaking badly.

  Sean grabbed a pen as the kidnapper spoke.

  “There is a vacant warehouse down near the docks off West Street. The freight door will be open. Drive inside and wait. Come alone.”

  Sean touched Carlos’s shoulder and shook his head. They’d discussed this. He hoped Carlos didn’t forget to tell the kidnappers he had to have a driver, that he couldn’t drive himself.

  “I am disabled. I cannot walk or drive. My chauffeur will be driving. I will be in the backseat with your money.”

  “You’re lying! No driver. We will kill your daughter.”

  Carlos sat up straight. His drawn face drained of color. “Señor, I do not lie. All I care about is my daughter.”

  Sean’s heart went out to him. He held the phone so tightly Sean thought the plastic might break. “You will meet with me and my driver, or we will not meet at all. It is the only way you will get the money.”

  After a pause, the voice said, “Fine. You and your driver. No one else.”

  Sean hadn’t heard a word exchanged during that pause. It was just for effect. Was this Sophie’s masked man?

  “You have my word. There will only be two of us.”

  “Two hours. Four million dollars. If anything goes wrong, that instant will be your daughter’s last breath.”

  “You will bring her—?”

  The phone went dead.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sophie rode with Sean to pick up the four million dollars. They went in the limousine so the bank employees could load the two large cases into the trunk.

  Sophie stood beside Sean as two burly guards rolled a cart carrying the metal cases to the back of the limo and hefted them into the trunk.

  “Mr. Botero looked really drained after the phone call. He can’t possibly do this,” Sophie said.

  Sean shook his head. “He won’t. Javier is giving him a sedative. One of my men is an expert shot. He’s ready to go. He’ll wear Carlos’s coat and hat and sit in the back. I’ll pick him up when I take you back to the estate.”

  Sophie had already noticed the dark coat and hat in the backseat of the limo. “Won’t a coat and hat in the middle of summer be suspicious?”

  He shook his head. “Since his stroke, Carlos hasn’t gone anywhere without them. You know his reputation. He’s nearly as popular in the Hispanic community as his daughter Sonya. Well-known in Miami society. He’s a proud man. Doesn’t want to be seen as weak and frail. So even when he goes to the doctor, he wears those.”

  The bank employees finally wrestled the second suitcase into the limo and signaled to Sean that he was set to go.

  “Do you think they’ll have Sonya there?”

  Sean didn’t answer, but his jaw worked as he stepped to the back of the car to check the suitcases and close the trunk.
Then he came around to open the passenger door for her. As he reached for the handle, his cell phone rang.

  He answered it.

  Sophie couldn’t tell what the voice was saying, but Sean’s face turned white.

  Sophie grabbed his forearm. The muscle under her hand jumped, but he didn’t look at her.

  “When? Just now? How is he?” He cursed. “Call an ambulance. No sirens. Just get him to the hospital.”

  He listened for a couple of seconds. “Good. So they’re on their way. You tell him I’ll take care of this.”

  He snapped his phone shut and slammed his other palm against the column next to which they’d parked.

  “Sean, what’s wrong?”

  He sent her a quelling glance as color began to return to his face. He looked at his watch and cursed again. “The kidnappers called again. They’ve moved the time up. One hour.”

  “Of course. We should have expected that.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “Never mind. What about the ambulance? Is Carlos okay?”

  “He had a stroke, right after he hung up.” Sean’s face reflected his worry. “Javier says it wasn’t major, but he’s lost all strength on the left side of his body. He can’t make the ransom drop. Hell, there’s no time now, even if he could. Dear God, they’ll kill Sonya!”

  Sophie remembered Carlos’s coat and hat. “I’ll do it.”

  Sean’s eyes turned lethal. “The hell you will.”

  “They said one hour? How much time do we have left? Can we get to that warehouse in time?”

  “Not even in a jet. We only have ten minutes. Forget it, Sophie. I’ll go alone.” He ran a hand down his face in frustration.

  “That won’t work. Mr. Botero is stooped and frail now. I’ll wear his coat and hat and huddle in the backseat.”

  Sean grabbed her elbow, not gently. “Are you pulling that ‘I love danger’ crap again? I’m warning you, Sophie, this is not the time.”

  She laid her hand over his. “Listen to me. I can do this. I am an agent of a discreet, covert division of the Department of Public Safety. It’s known as the Confidential Agency. Weddings Your Way is a cover for the operation.”

  Sean’s head jerked as if he’d been hit. He gaped at her. “Have you gone nuts? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You have to trust me. I’m trained for this sort of thing. Before I became a Confidential agent, I worked with the CIA in New York.”

  He slammed his palm on the limo’s roof. “Damn it, don’t screw with me! This is life and death, not some—”

  “Sean!” she interrupted sharply. “I can’t prove it to you now, but if we’re going to save Sonya’s life, you have to believe me. We’ve got to go.”

  Sean stared at the tall, lovely blonde, trying to absorb what she was saying. He couldn’t. He’d heard the words. Some of them had even made sense. Like Confidential agent. Weddings Your Way is a cover. CIA. But coming out of her mouth they were impossible to believe.

  She returned his gaze without blinking, her chin lifted in that determined way he was beginning to recognize.

  He had no choice. There was too much at stake. Sonya’s life. And Carlos’s, because Sean knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if Sonya died, Carlos would die, too.

  And he was responsible. He couldn’t let that happen.

  He’d do what he had to do to protect his boss and his boss’s daughter, even believe an unbelievable story from a woman he’d only known a short time, and couldn’t afford to trust.

  He studied Sophie’s face for a precious few seconds. “Get in.”

  Sophie’s cheeks ballooned in a huge whooshing breath of relief. She knew Sean didn’t believe her. But that was of secondary importance. He’d figured out that he had no choice but to go along with her plan.

  She’d worry about what he did and didn’t believe later. She’d deal with the consequences once they were out of danger.

  She climbed into the backseat of the limousine and wriggled into the coat.

  “Do you have a gun?” she asked, pushing up the brim of the hat enough to see as he started the limo and pulled out of the bank’s covered parking area.

  “A gun?” His gaze met hers in the rear view mirror.

  “Yes, Sean, a gun. We’re going to meet dangerous men in a deserted warehouse. I think we both should be armed.”

  “But your wrist is sprained.”

  She sent him a wry smile. “I can shoot with either hand.” She felt sorry for him. He looked stunned. He was a victim of TMI—too much information in too little time.

  “Look in the armrest,” he finally said.

  She pulled down the retractable armrest and opened it.

  “Nice,” she commented as she pulled a 9 mm from the storage compartment. Deftly, she expelled the magazine, checked it and slapped it back into the gun, all the time feeling Sean’s eyes on her.

  “How far are we from the warehouse?”

  “About three miles.” He frowned, then took out his cell phone. “I’m calling Montoya. We need backup.”

  “Tell him I’ve told you about Confidential. He’ll position police outside the warehouse. But the kidnappers will probably have lookouts, too. Warn him.”

  Sean had already dialed the number. “Montoya. The ransom’s going down right now. Nope, no time. Sophie told me about Confidential. Can you get us some backup to 2497 West Street? Yep. Empty warehouse.”

  He listened. “Who knows. Probably surrounded. Just Sophie and me. Carlos had another stroke. Hell, man, we’ve got less than ten minutes. We’re already late. Get that backup and keep it outside. We’re in Botero’s limo. Don’t let them do anything unless they hear shots. Otherwise wait for my call. I don’t want to lose these guys. Yes, I’ll take care of Sophie.”

  Sean closed his cell phone and turned onto the street the warehouse was on. Take care of Sophie. It sounded like Sophie could take care of herself.

  He didn’t have time to consider how he felt about her and everyone else at that damned wedding planning place lying to him. He’d known from the start that there was something fishy about the whole operation.

  A division of the Department of Public Safety. That was vague enough. Who knew what it meant.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror at Sophie. She looked small and vulnerable in Carlos’s coat and hat. The sleeve of the coat hid her weapon.

  Her gaze met his and she smiled tightly and nodded, her blue eyes sharp and determined.

  In that instant, he saw her differently. She was a professional, a trained agent. Gone was any trace of the ditzy blonde who craved excitement and danger.

  The image of her slapping at her back where a paddle holster would rest, then ducking and rolling flashed through his mind. Watching her check and load that gun just now had been a huge turn-on.

  Hell. Down, boy. This was no time to get hot and bothered about his mysterious partner.

  “Here it is,” he said, turning into the short driveway of the warehouse. The freight door was open just enough to clear the top of the limousine.

  They drove into darkness.

  The limo’s lights switched on automatically, along with a couple of recessed lights inside the vehicle that emitted a soft, eerie glow. Sean lowered the car windows.

  “Can you see anything?” Sophie whispered. The late afternoon light from the open freight door sent long shadows snaking across the concrete floor and into the hidden corners. Above them, a skeletal framework of rafters provided dozens of hiding places for lookouts and sharpshooters.

  Sean shook his head. His hair brushed the collar of his jacket, nearly hiding his vulnerable nape and planting a soft yearning in Sophie’s breast. She’d kissed him there, had pressed her nose into his hair and breathed him in—the faint scent of woodsy shampoo, the warm musk of his freshly washed skin, the sharp redolence of citrus mouthwash.

  The sound of metal raking metal startled her, destroying the poignant memory of their one night together.

  Se
an shifted in his seat and Sophie realized he was checking his weapon. The sound had been the snick of a full magazine snapping into place.

  “So what the hell were you talking about back there?” His soft yet harsh voice reproached her.

  “Rachel Brennan is the head of the Miami Confidential Agency. We work with the Department of Public Safety on certain matters that require discretion.”

  Sean laughed shortly. “Discretion. Is that what you call it?”

  There was a mountain of recrimination in his words. She bit her lip as she watched the line of his jaw bulge as he quickly and with no wasted effort checked out the area around the car.

  “I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

  “And yet you did.”

  “I follow Rachel’s orders.” She winced. That comment was going to open up a can of worms.

  “Yeah?” He turned his head. His classic profile made her heart flutter. His furrowed brows and set mouth made it ache. He disliked her and she was just about to find out how much.

  “Just how far does a ‘Confidential agent’ go to follow orders?”

  “Sean, I know what you must think—”

  “I doubt it.”

  She swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut for an instant. Then she took a deep breath and did something she thought she would never do again in her life. She took down all the barriers. With her pulse hammering and her chest tight, she told him the truth.

  “Not that night, Sean.”

  He didn’t even blink.

  She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. Stop it, Sophie, she admonished herself. Think about the job.

  She surveyed the warehouse interior again. It was easier this time. Her eyes were adapting to the dark. But she still didn’t see anything move.

  “What about the scars, Sophie? I guess you lied about those, too. What really happened? Something in the line of duty?”

  She clenched her teeth as she hefted her weapon in her left hand and searched the rafters for any sign of movement. “I didn’t lie,” she said tightly.

  “I grant I’m not a good judge of women.” His voice grated. “I tend to believe in them until I’m proven wrong. I believed in my wife, until she told me herself that she’d cheated on me throughout our whole marriage. Including when she got pregnant.”